


Celestial Harmonies

by lynamoon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 5+1 Things, 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Not Oblivious (Good Omens), Canon Timeline, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Happy Ending, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Scene: The Ritz (Good Omens), The Bentley Ships It (Good Omens), she/her pronouns for the Bentley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25721542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynamoon/pseuds/lynamoon
Summary: The story of a demon falling in love with an angel throughout time and his automobile acting as his wingman. (wingwoman? wingcar? ... you get the idea).
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	Celestial Harmonies

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the Good Omens TV show canon. Some details from the book are included. I took some liberties with descriptions and dialogue, but I stuck with the timeline of events for the most part. The scenes will make more sense if you've seen the show and/or read the book, but it's not necessary to enjoy the premise of the story. The full list of songs mentioned is included in the end notes. Enjoy!!

The first time it happened was shortly after Crowley had bombed a church.

 _He_ didn’t bomb it per se. As in, he didn’t hold the bomb and throw it with his own hands. He just…altered the winds course so that the bomb may have aligned exactly where the steeple perched. Aziraphale was in trouble—as was not unusual—with Nazis in some convoluted double-or-was-it-triple-crossed plot to expose their crimes. Oh, what a fun time the 40s were shaping up to be.

No matter. Aziraphale needed his assistance. Even though Crowley setting foot on the consecrated ground felt akin to hot sand on a hot beach on a hot day, he could never resist a moment of chivalry. As much as demons were supposed to scheme against all things good, most of humanities ugly deeds didn’t involve Crowley’s influence. Sure, blame road blockages and power outages and sporks on him, but never such abominations as humans came up with on their own. Hence, the Nazi party. Grim stuff.

So yes, he was involved in the bombing of a church. The demon may have destroyed the chapel, but he miracled the two of them out of harm’s way in doing so, which was a plus. Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind the desecration. He was; however, absolutely grief-stricken at the loss of his precious, rare books. He was certain they had all been blown to bits. Crowley had accounted for this beforehand, knowing what an incessant bibliophile the angel was, and miracled the satchel containing the books to be wedged in a small crevice of the rubble, safe from harm.

Aziraphale seemed awestruck as Crowley handed him the satchel.

“Little demonic miracle of my own. Lift home?” Crowley had asked nonchalantly.

It was good that neither of them could blush, as their faces would’ve been cherry red at that moment.

So yes, the first time happened when they both stepped into Crowley’s Bentley. That is to say, the car radio had procured a mind of its own. Crowley had just turned the keys into the ignition when a woman’s voice cascaded forth in a smooth, jazzy melody…

“Heaven, I'm in heaven  
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak  
And I seem to find the happiness I seek  
When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek”

The angel and demon met each other’s gaze and burst into a fit of laughter.

Heaven. Oh, what a far cry from here.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The second time it happened was during the late 60s.

The favor was for personal insurance, as Crowley thought about it. Aziraphale, however, took it as a means of suicide. This is to say, Crowley had asked the angel some decades ago for holy water. The thing that the principality knew would end him forever.

“Out of the question.” Aziraphale had exclaimed.

“Why not?”

“It would destroy you. I’m not bringing you a suicide pill, Crowley.”

The shock in those eyes bright as the lake before them. Ducks milling about unaware of the two save for the moments Aziraphale had indulged them with some crackers. Of course he was shocked. Of course he’d assumed the worst possible meaning to his query. Just minutes ago Crowley had been poking fun at the angel’s ostentatious top hat. The damn thing was covered in a plush, white velvet with a satin bow around the front. Ridiculous. It suited Aziraphale perfectly. In any case, the conversation had soured quickly, and it had been Crowley’s fault.

“That’s not what I need it for” Crowley had assured. He would never intentionally discorporate himself, much less end his entire existence. The angel _had_ to know that.

“I won’t do it. I won’t help you destroy yourself”

“Angel…”

The angel had walked away swiftly afterwards. Crowley made no effort following him. He wasn’t wrong to be upset at him, but Crowley had hoped the whole thing would be less contentious.

That was the end of it. At least, until today.

Crowley had parked the Bentley outside of the club. One he often visited when he felt lonely. Which is to say, more often than he’d liked. The cocktails were good and the company wasn’t bad either. Provocative neon signs lit the pavement below in shades of lime yellow and orange. A soft rain had started to fall as he waited for Aziraphale outside the Bentley. He’d planned on drinking until dawn, but Aziraphale had telephoned him to meet up. It seemed to be an urgent matter.

After a few minutes, Aziraphale came walking up the side street. Crowley opened the door of the car for him. Crowley joined him sitting down in the Bentley. The angel’s expression was worrying. He seemed uncharacteristically ill at ease.

“I can’t have you risking your life. Not even for something dangerous. So, you can call off the robbery. Don’t go unscrewing the cap.”

He had found out his plan. Crowley had intended to go about procuring holy water in a more characteristically demonic way, but even he was unsure whether or not he’d actually go through with it.

Aziraphale presented what looked like a normal thermos. The specific tartan print adorning the outside a sure sign that the container belonged to the angel. Crowley was puzzled for a moment, then a surge of realization hit him.

Holy water.

The angel was willingly handing him a thermos of holy water.

Aziraphale’s trust in him and his own appreciation of what he’d done for him was overwhelming to think about.

To say “thank you” felt wrong, but to not say anything felt worse.

“I’ll give you a lift. Anywhere you want to go.”

“You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

Just as Aziraphale had shut the door behind him, the radio switched on to a joyful and rather ironic song…

“I found a reason to keep livin'  
Oh, and the reason dear is you  
I found a reason to keep singin'  
Wow-woh, and the reason dear is you”

“Oh, I do believe  
you are what you perceive  
What comes is better than what  
came before”

Crowley could only sit in stunned disbelief. He had let him walk away. Again. Out in the rain, without another word. He felt the lyrics of the song as deeply in his heart as the weight of the container in his hand. He couldn’t help but wonder if the angel was right.

Was he too fast?

Or not fast enough?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The third time it happened was while driving to the child’s birthday party. The child being a boy named Warlock—also the son of Satan—and the birthday being his 11th. The little antichrist would soon come into his full power.

Aziraphale and Crowley had made an arrangement soon after the boy was born to oversee his upbringing; both contributing their own expertise of Heaven and Hell into the mix. With any luck, both of their influences would cancel each other out, and Warlock would grow to be a normal, human boy. One particularly tricky part of the plan was making sure his parents were none the wiser of the boy’s supposed fate.

Keeping their own celestial forms secret wasn’t a problem as they had both become accustomed to corporeal life on Earth. However, Aziraphale had thought it would be fun to change up their appearances. The angel had suggested he pose as the family’s gardener and the demon as the nanny. It was an odd suggestion as Crowley was more experienced in the horticultural arts, but Aziraphale had disapproved of his methods (i.e. yelling at them to comply to rid himself of his frustrations). Crowley eventually obliged, mostly due to becoming exceedingly bored at presenting male. He did enjoy getting to don his long hair and wear dresses once more.

They were a constant part of the boy’s life, sharing influence over him and monitoring the results. It seemed Warlock was turning out to be just what they had hoped. That is to say, _not_ the all-powerful Antichrist. But, they would not know for certain what lie ahead until this very day.

Much to Crowley’s chagrin, Aziraphale had insisted on performing magic at Warlock’s birthday party. Not _real_ magic though. The angel enjoyed practicing the fake stuff as a hobby. This was the topic of discussion as Crowley drove to the boy’s house.

“Angel, you can do real magic. Just miracle the doves out of the hat!”

“That’s not the point, Crowley!

“Then was is the point, hm? To make a fool of yourself?”

“I’ll have you know I am well-read on performance art, prestidigitation included. I will not be making a fool of myself. I think the children will find the whole thing rather fun”

“Alright then, have your presig…prestigis...pre… _magic_ thing then. I’ll have nothing to do with it”

Just after the words had left his mouth, the Bentley’s radio sounded off a dream-like number…

“These are silver wings  
These are golden eyes  
These are floating clouds  
Angel for life

Dreaming alone  
And I feel that someone  
Listens to me  
Angel for life”

Crowley looked over in confusion and suspicion. Three times. No less than three times has his Bentley ever shown to have a mind of its own; all of them when Aziraphale was present. Three times the charm, as the old saying goes. He figured the phrase was the angel’s doing. He did love a good aphorism.

The demon lunged toward the dial to change the frequency to something less…sentimental. He was mortified to discover that no matter which channel he switched to, the same song played on each one.

He shut off the radio in defeat.

The angel simply giggled from beside him. If he was any the wiser, he made no effort to show it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The fourth time it happened was when everything seemed hopeless. The boy that the angel and demon had been watching over, looking after, caring for all these years was in fact _not_ the Antichrist. The blasted hellhound hadn’t shown up at the kid’s 11th birthday party, and that’s when they both knew. They were screwed. The child had to have gotten switched at birth. That fateful day when Crowley himself had handed over the hellspawn in a handbasket to those nuns. Nonetheless, knowing the why and how wouldn’t help them at this moment; it was only the where. The foretold Apocalypse would be upon them in a matter of days. If they didn’t find the actual Antichrist soon…well…they’d rather not think about that.

“You’ve lost the boy” Aziraphale chided.

“— _We’ve_ lost”

“A _child_ has been lost”

It was the single most important job besides not consuming a specific apple from a specific tree in a specific garden. And they’d buggered it up.

Aziraphale carried on about strategy while Crowley careened down the busy streets of London at a rather frightening speed. Heading towards Her-knows-where. But, with any luck, somewhere that had information on how to find the boy.

The stress was beginning to take a toll on the angel. So, Aziraphale suggested they put on some music. He searched through the compartment before him, retrieving a few CD’s from the demon’s impressive collection. Some had already transformed into copies of “Queen’s Greatest Hits” because…well, the Bentley had its own taste in music. Pretty good taste at that.

Crowley assured Aziraphale he wouldn’t like much from his collection, scowling as Aziraphale referred to it as “bebop”. Then, before the angel could decide on which CD to try, the car radio abruptly started playing an upbeat, wishful tune…

“You don't have to sleep with me  
Or rest your head upon my knee  
You just have to love me till the sun shines  
Baby you can wear my clothes,  
Play my records, stay at my home  
Long as you just love me till the sun shines”

Was this what he thought it was?

Was his Bentley doing this…on purpose?

“Now is not the time!” Crowley exclaimed, heat steadily creeping up his face.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Not you, it’s the…well…it’s just the blasted radio!”

“The radio?”

“Nevermind” “Now, how do we find this kid?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The fifth time it happened was just as everything went up in flames. Literal flames. As in a massive fire stretching across the M-25. Crowley knew that blasted roadway would come back and bite him in the arse one day. He’d created the thing as a way of inconvenience for the mortals of London. He failed to realize that he, too, resided in London. He metaphysically kicked himself at the thought.

This was the absolute worst possible timing for this to happen. Aziraphale had been discorporated. The four horsemen had arrived. The bloody antichrist was missing. And for the cherry on top, Crowley was stuck in traffic on the M-fucking-25.

The Antichrist had acknowledged his power. It was only a matter of time before he accepted his birthright. Armageddon was coming whether they were ready or not.

Crowley’s only clue as to where the Adam was heading was the Tadfield airbase. Time was of the essence, and Crowley couldn’t afford to wait amongst the hundreds of cars trying to avoid the fire. He had no other choice than to race through the flames. These flames, unfortunately, were not hellfire and thusly Crowley was not immune to it. Pure force of will was the only way he’d survive. The demon knew it would be a close call. He had no way to tell where the fire ended and how far it had spread. If he could pray, he would. Instead, he floored the accelerator and hoped it would be enough. The old girl _had_ to make it.

 _He_ had to make it.

Or he would never see Aziraphale again.

“Ooh ooh can you feel my love heat, ooh  
Come on and sit on my hot-seat of love  
And tell me how do you feel right after-all  
I'd like for you and I to go romancing  
Say the word, your wish is my command”

Crowley’s eyes widened. His Bentley, unlike the current situation, had impeccable timing. He let out a low, desperate laugh of understanding. No fire in creation, whether earthly or summoned from hell, could ever match the heat in his soul for Aziraphale. Even if he didn’t have a soul, Aziraphale had given him something like it that resided deep within him. He felt its spark all the time.

“When I'm not with you  
I think of you always  
(I miss those long hot summer nights) I miss you  
When I'm not with you  
Think of me always  
Love you, love you”

Every moment he spent with the angel was a moment he would never forget. Never regret. Never change. Every minute without him felt like a millennia until they met again. And when they did, it was always over too quickly.

“Dining at the Ritz, we'll meet at nine precisely  
(One two three four five six seven eight nine o' clock)  
I will pay the bill, you taste the wine  
Driving back in style, in my saloon will do quite nicely  
Just take me back to yours that will be fine (come on and get it)”

The Ritz. Oh, The Ritz. To see Aziraphale savor each delectable dessert once more. He had never enjoyed food before witnessing the look of pure joy come across the angel’s face as he ate. It was a marvel in and of itself.

“Ooh love, (there he goes again just like a good old-fashioned lover boy)  
Ooh loverboy  
What're you doin' tonight, hey boy  
Everything's all right  
Just hold on tight  
That's because I'm a good old-fashioned fashioned lover boy”

His Bentley knew. She’d always known.

Now, he knew.

He was madly, hopelessly, ineffably in love with the angel Aziraphale.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sixth time it happened was after Armagedidn’t.

Aziraphale and Crowley had succeeded in thwarting the plans of Heaven and Hell. Or perhaps more appropriately, Adam had rejected his role as the antichrist and defeated the four horsemen with the help of his friends. The angel and demon were mostly there for moral support, but that was neither here nor there.

There was; however, one problem. The Bentley was gone. Shortly after barreling down the M-25, she had exploded on the tarmac of the Tadfield airbase. The only thing keeping her together at all was the sheer effort of concentration Crowley maintained through the whole drive. To say the demon was devastated was an understatement. He’d had the Bentley for over 90 years with nary a scratch, and to see it combust was heartbreaking. Crowley had stifled his grief for the sake of the world, but the painful memory remained.

When the literal and metaphorical smoke had cleared, the world had gone back to a relatively normal state. However, the fates of the angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley were yet to be known. With both Heaven and Hell too fearful to let either back in, they weren’t sure where to go except remain on Earth. It wasn’t a bad thing; in fact, you could say it proved to be the opposite. There were no more rules, no more allegiances, no more sides. They were free. They could go and do whatever they pleased without repercussion. Of course, all the two really wanted was peace and quiet for once. The events of the past week had been enough to fill their chaos-o-meter for the next millennia.

After a much deserved lunch at the Ritz, the angel had informed the demon that he wished to show him something.

“Not sure I can handle any more surprises at the moment, Aziraphale.”

“Don’t you worry, Crowley. This surprise will be a splendid one!”

With a huff of feigned indignation, Crowley followed Aziraphale out of the restaurant. The angel was beaming, if not outright glowing. He hadn’t seen him so cheerful in quite some time; maybe since first opening his bookshop. Or procuring a mint, 1st edition copy of _Lady Windermere’s Fan_.

Crowley didn’t have to wonder for too long.

She was the first thing he laid eyes on.

His Bentley.

Not a scratch or dent or burn in sight. Beautiful as the day he’d bought her so long ago. Crowley hadn’t realized he’d been running until the palms of his hands made contact with the glossy, black hood. He’d only had a few bits of shrapnel to remember her by, and yet there she was right in front of him.

“How…” Crowley uttered, unable to finish the question.

“I knew how precious your automobile was to you” Aziraphale smiled warmly. “It took quite some time crafting every minute detail, but for you, it had to be perfect. I know it’s not the original, but it’s the closest to it I could manage”

“You…did this? For _me_?”

“Indeed, my dear Crowley”

“You…you know what, I might take back that part about you being a bastard”

“Oh you…” Aziraphale chuckled. “Am I still enough of one to be worth knowing?”

Crowley answered with a wide grin, helpless to hide his elation. He invited the angel to step inside, opening the passenger door for him as he climbed in.

The interior was just as perfect as the exterior. It was all there. From the wear on the steering wheel to the compartment containing his signature sunglasses. Even the smell was perfect; cardamom and bergamot with a hint of something that reminded the demon of their first day in Eden. Crowley assumed Aziraphale had added in the last note as a pleasant touch.

Turning the key, the engine purred to life. Crowley sighed at the sound, briefly closing his eyes to let the moment sink in. He reached over to place his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, gripping it as if the angel’s form would ground him to the reality that he finally had his Bentley back.

At that moment, something occurred that was not wholly unfamiliar to the demon.

Once again, the Bentley’s radio sounded off. This time however, Crowley didn’t recognize the song.

“I have died every day, waiting for you  
Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years  
I'll love you for a thousand more

And all along I believed, I would find you  
Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you for a thousand years  
I'll love you for a thousand more”

“Well, technically it’s been 6,000 years…”

“Angel, I don’t know why she does this, honestly it’s just—wait, what did you say?”

Crowley turned toward Aziraphale. To his immense surprise, he could see the faintest hint of the angel’s halo shining out from their hidden astral plane. They had never done that.

“Over 6,000 years, even.” Aziraphale repeated, staring straight into Crowley’s golden, reptilian irises.

Crowley sat for a minute in stunned silence. Could it be true? The angel he was damned to be enemies with. The angel he would always be unworthy of. The angel who somehow saw so much good in such a wretched being as him.

The angel he had loved since the quite literal beginning of everything.

Then, something clicked.

“You mean…wait…you mean, you knew about the radio?”

“Well, I figured it out eventually”

Aziraphale leaned in closer.

“With all that love energy radiating from you, it was a wonder you hadn’t caused a city-wide blackout yet”

“So you…you do? You really do…love me?”

“Yes, my dear. After all this time”

Crowley couldn’t hold back the tear that ran down his cheek. Demons, or any celestial beings for that matter, weren’t supposed to be able to cry. But Crowley was never really one for technicalities.

“Well, looks like we’ve got some catching up to do” Crowley remarked, voice cracking a bit more than intended.

“It would seem so” Aziraphale replied, eyes bright and expectant.

If you ask Aziraphale, he would say Crowley leaned it first. If you ask Crowley, he would say Aziraphale leaned in first. In all honesty it was more of a tie, but nevertheless.

Their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss. Crowley held Aziraphale’s face between his hands as if he were Atlas holding the world itself. Aziraphale embraced Crowley like the stars above held on to the night sky. The Bentley’s radio clamored in the background in a disjointed rhythm of vocals and percussion and static.

A friendship lasting eons, now something entirely new and beautiful.

They were finally free.

In more ways than one.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong - Cheek to Cheek  
> (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwLUx6T2uAs)  
> 2\. The Velvet Underground - I Found a Reason  
> (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rIXHC7Cys1c)  
> 3\. David Bowie - The Wedding Song  
> (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F5MwwGHWQts)  
> 4\. The Kinks - Love Me Till the Sun Shines  
> (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lLXZ92_ptjU)  
> 5\. Queen - Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy  
> (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R44FQ2BN2PA)  
> 6\. Christina Perri - A Thousand Years  
> (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtOvBOTyX00)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave kudos or comments if you enjoyed it! <3


End file.
